


Mirror Images

by RoboNekoChan1991



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Both Hawke siblings survive, F/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Two Inquisitors, Whenever I didn't want to comply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2020-08-12 22:34:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20135842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboNekoChan1991/pseuds/RoboNekoChan1991
Summary: So, for starters, I have platinum ed the Dragon Age series. Recently I started replaying Inquisition, and I just felt like writing down the story I have in my head for these characters. I will follow most of the cannon...except where I wish to deviate, and I will have in between moments to flesh out Cullen's path and Dorian's path, because I need more. Those are my favorite romances in the game. The first chapter probably isn't great, but I had to do a summary of what had occurred in the world until the Conclave.I wanted to try my hand at something other than Harry Potter fanfics, although I will still be working on that one too.





	1. Chapter 1

Cullen began his service as a Templar, fresh faced and full of idealism, in Kinloch Hold, the only Circle in Ferelden. At the time, he had thought himself incredibly lucky, because it was close enough that if his brothers or his sister Mia wanted to visit that they could. Cullen remembered looking up at the imposing tower, feeling nothing but excitement and nervousness. He was in a small ferry with two other recruits, Brandon and Graham he thought they were, who grumbled about not being stationed somewhere glamourous like Orlais. 

It took a remarkably long time for some of Cullen’s excitement and idealism to fade. The Circle was not what he had envisioned. While not openly antagonistic, the relationship between mages and templars was often passively hostile. Many of the older enchanters completely ignored the templars unless they could not avoid interacting. The younger mages though, was a bit more polarizing. Some openly scorned and hated him because he was a templar, and a surprising number seemed desirous of getting in his small clothes for the same reason. His time was spent between endless patrols (not the nicer, quieter levels either, due to his “rookie” status) and paperwork. But still, Cullen was hopeful at the time he was helping, he was doing the right thing. He was never harsh to the mages, and he was more lenient, intent on treating his charges like humans. 

Cullen still remembered the first time he saw Nymrodil Solana, who became the Hero of Ferelden, the Arlessa of Amaranthine, Commander of the Grey, and official Mistress to King Alistair. It was about 3 months after he started there, he was 18 and she was probably near his age at the time (Cullen couldn’t say for sure, it was hard to tell with elves), it was a couple years before her Harrowing and subsequent joining the Grey Wardens. 

He was zoned out, standing in the Library, passively watching the mages reading and learning their craft. Then, she came in with Anders (a legendary troublemaker), a brunet he didn’t recognize and Jowan. It was like getting struck by lightning. Cullen had seen elven women before (all right, he had seen exactly one before coming to the circle, and she was old enough to be his grandmother), but Nymrodil was something else, a different level. She had hair like starlight, her platinum hair hung down her back in loose, full waves that looked like silk, or molten metal, Nymrodil’s skin was like snow, without blemish or mark, a hint of delicate petal pink on her full lips and high cheekbones. Abnormally large, slanted eyes , almost cat like in shape, were the most vivid aqua Cullen had ever seen, almost unnervingly intense. Like all elves, her frame was dainty, graceful, like a drawing of a halla Cullen had once seen, and where she lacked the full hips and large breasts many others favored (elves were not to everyone’s taste, they were a touch too exotic for some), her small curves would fit in his hands perfectly, and were high and perky. Cullen blushed furiously at having thought that, and bashfully looked away, but not quick enough, those beautiful eyes met his for a brief moment as her group passed, and her soft lips smiled teasingly. All mages, because of the lyrium they consumed, had a hum or tingle about them, an energy in their aura that a templar could feel if they really focused, it varied from mage to mage based on their power levels it was rumored, but it was as unique as a finger print. Nymrodil’s felt chaotic, like the air after lightening had struck, a deafening crackle, it made his hair stand up a little. He felt like he couldn’t breathe until she passed, and he began that night discreetly asking his fellows about her. Well, he thought he was being discreet, he missed some of the smirks and smiles the older templars had.

He learned she had not been there as long as some of the other apprentices, she had been found wandering the wilds, starving and cold, when she was 13 or 14. Cullen learned that she had been Dalish, and when Dalish have to many mages in a clan, they either send the extras to another clan or turn them loose. While still young, most apprentices were picked up much younger, usually 6 or 8. Nymrodil had settled in some ways to Circle living after a very trying battle, but in others not so much. She refused to wear shoes, she was still fluent in elvish, and disinterested in Chantry teachings, she broke enough rules to be known as a rebel, but not enough to have ever landed her in real trouble. Talent oozed out of her, and she was one of the Head Enchanter’s favorite, and could glide seamlessly in with the elven mages and the human ones. She was playful and flirtatious, rarely taking anyone or anything seriously, despite her angelic looks, much to the annoyance and fondness of her teachers.

Cullen made a point from then on to surreptitiously learn her habits. Well, he attempted to be, he failed miserably, templars are not taught how to be sneaky. He traded favors with other rookies so he could coincidentally patrol or guard the areas she frequented, so he could watch from afar, knowing his crush was doomed. Cullen knew this level of interest was…inappropriate, but she was a magnet to him, and he thought so long as nothing happened, she was just under closer surveillance…very close. But his plan was thwarted when she began to seek him out, talking to him and teasing him, flirting, trying to get to know him. All he could really do is blush and stutter around her, he couldn’t even look her in the eye.

This went on for close to a year before someone gave him a hint. Brandon told him he caught her going into an empty enchanter’s quarters one night, and that a few others had also done so. Cullen, being the lovesick puppy he was at the time, was curious, and it didn’t even occur to him what she could possibly want with an empty bedroom, at night. Cullen was embarrassed to say he was still a virgin at the time, and while he knew the basic mechanics (he grew up in a small farming village after all), he didn’t connect the dots. 

Creeping through the halls to the room he had been told about, he saw a faint light under the door, pale, as if only a few candles were lit. He thought he heard a soft sigh, or gasp, and he leaned against the door to hear better, when it opened. Nymrodil was in between Anders and Karl, the brunet that was always attached to Anders. The boys were still clothed, but Nymrodil was not. The door opening had alerted the three that there was an intruder, and the boys sprinted past him, probably surprised Cullen didn’t chase them, but Nymrodil didn’t move. Cullen’s eyes drank in her nakedness, and she lay there, languid, smiling provocatively. Cullen’s imagination for those long, lonely nights when he clumsily touched himself, was a pale shadow when faced with the reality. 

Her body was as lithe and graceful as he had imagined, every inch of creamy skin bare to his gaze. She had limbs so lean Cullen didn’t think she could close her legs to save her life, her thighs were wide set, even if they hadn’t been splayed open. Her high, firm breasts were the same shade of delicate pink as her lips, and also that of her sex, which looked impossibly small, and everything was completely devoid of hair. He had heard rumors elves didn’t have body hair, and that appeared to be correct. Cullen still doesn’t remember walking toward her, he was almost in a trance at the time, reaching a gloved hand to touch her smooth, flat stomach, when she caught his arm, pulling him down for his first proper kiss. Nymrodil was Cullen’s first. 

He had been horrified about what he had done, he had broken literally a dozen rules, and so he avoided her, but then she sought him out. They played that game for about a month before he gave in, and then they were lovers for about a year before her Harrowing and subsequent departure, the shattering of his heart. Looking back, Cullen was sure it was entirely physical on her part at first, but slowly it did develop into more. She talked about her thoughts, her hopes, her dreams. He got to know her as a person.

“I wish I wasn’t a mage.” Nymrodil sighed one night, a week or so before her Harrowing, snuggled into his arms. The world felt pleasant and warm, Cullen was fighting sleep.

“Why? We would not have met if you weren’t.”

Nymrodil sat up for a moment, and looked into his eyes. He was surprised to see tears in her eyes, and heartbreaking sadness, loneliness. “Yes, but I can’t marry. I can’t have my own things, my own caravan or house, any children I bear will be ripped from me. I can’t fall in love and plan a future here, Cullen. You could walk right out, tired of me, marry any girl you please, and start a family. I can’t do anything about it.”

“Well, I would need approval, and there are rules about it…” Cullen rambled, uncomfortable and not sure how to comfort her. 

“Not like you’d marry a knife ear anyway even if I wasn’t a mage. But I can’t even be with my own people, my own family.” There was a bitterness in her voice.

“I would marry you if I could, Nym.” Cullen assured her, and he had meant it at the time.

“What if I ran away, would you follow me? Marry me in secret and have children together?”   
Cullen said nothing. He knew he couldn’t do that, while he had thought about it, he knew that was wrong, both her and he would be punished so severely. His loyalty to the order wouldn’t bend that far, he couldn’t forsake the order and his faith for that fantasy. “We can’t, Nym. You know that.”

Her aqua eyes held so many emotions, sadness, loneliness, bitterness, understanding. She smiled slightly, before getting up and getting dressed, quietly leaving him to go to her quarters. That was their last night together, while they stole kisses here and there, exchanged notes, they didn’t spend another night together. When he was chosen to strike her down if she failed her Harrowing, Cullen choked, desperately trying to keep a straight face. He would later swear he saw a flicker of apology in Gregoire’s eyes. He was assured it was a formality, that a mage like her would pass it easily. And then when she passed, there was the whole mess with Jowan, and she left for the Grey Wardens.

Cullen felt like the ground had collapsed beneath him when he watched her walk away from him, her sad eyes meeting his before she walked out the door. His heart felt ripped from his chest, and like he couldn’t breathe. He kept his composure, walking to an abandoned hallway, not noticing Gregoire follow him. A heavy, plate covered hand patted his shoulder, as he tried desperately not to cry.

“The first always hurts the worst.”

“Knight Commander Gregoire, I-“

“Spare me the fumbled lies, Rutherford. Most of the tower knew of the two of you. It was not causing any problems so it was left alone. As if this many men and women could live side by side, in this isolated of a place, WITHOUT the occasional fraternization. But she was just the first, you are young.” Gregoire left after he offered the somewhat comfort, allowing Cullen his privacy. 

He wasn’t allowed to mourn long, the Circle fell months later, and he watched his charges brutally slaughter his friends, some mages forcibly possessed, tortured, while his own mind was relentlessly tormented by desire demons, and rage demons. He was tortured, all while those fiends wore Nymrodil’s face, made him remember their times together, showed him visions of what could be. Everything, from Nymrodil torturing him, to watching her die, to a particularly passionate night together, to seeing her hold his son, played over and over in his mind, trying to get him to break, to submit. Cullen winces when he remembers what he said when the real Nymrodil came, how he acted. One of his regrets, seeing the hurt in her eyes when he harshly bit her head off, but he didn’t miss the care and familiarity the other Warden showed her, another blast from his past, Alistair, whom he remembered from training long ago. He saw the intimacy, the love in the other Warden’s eyes directed at Nymrodil, jealousy and rage making his manners worse. That was the true end of any future they might have had, well, his dreams that they had a future.  
When the Circle was restored, Cullen stayed there throughout the Blight, but he was not the same Templar. He was harsh, stern, inflexible in following the rules of the order, now he reported even the smallest of infractions. When Nymrodil killed the Archdemon and survived, Alistair became king and married Arnora, retaining his lover Nymrodil as his mistress, something that angered and disgusted Cullen, believing Nymrodil deserved better. Cullen requested and was granted reassignment when he heard the news. While in Kirkwall he heard that both the three people in the marriage seemed by all accounts to exist amicably, Ferelden stable and prosperous with their capable rulers. Nymrodil and Arnora had born the King sons, at close to the same time. He felt a small measure of happiness for Nymrodil that she had the child she had wanted. 

Kirkwall was worse than Kinloch in several ways, although Cullen didn’t see it at the time. After the uprising in Kinloch, the prison like atmosphere in the Gallows seemed justified, his rage and blind hatred still present. Hawke helped the Order when he could, his sister safely a Grey Warden and his brother served, so he supposed it made sense to a degree. Most of what he knew of Marius Hawke came from his brother Connor, though, who was obviously spiteful and jealous from an incident with someone named Sally years ago. He knew Hawke had been a mercenary for a long time, he and their father supported the family that way, and he had obvious talent, talent enough to be requested by name even before coming to Kirkwall. Marius also was a whore, he seemed to be in the brothel as much as his home, every whore knew him by name (and Honey badger…Cullen did not want to know why) and Cullen would have been greatly surprised if half of the children born during his time in Kirkwall weren’t Marius’. He had evidently slept with almost his entire group before settling with Anders, their antagonistic relationship made worse from the fact that Hawke supported the Order at every turn, even received Templar training, and the fact that Marius made little attempt to be monogamous. There was also the fact that Marius was a ruthless ass. Cullen didn’t honestly care about most of the information he knew, but everyone was eager to share every shred of a story with everyone with ears.

When the Chantry had exploded, Hawke sided with the Order, forcing his lover Anders to help, and Cullen stood with him against Meredith when she finally went mad. Newly crowned Viscount of Kirkwall, Hawke helped Cullen rebuild their city, before Cullen tendered his resignation, Hawke went into hiding not long after because of Sebastian’s wrath. But that was no longer Cullen’s concern as he travelled to the Conclave.

Adele Trevelyan rode her dappled grey mare to a small hill, overlooking the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where this Conclave was to be held. She pulled her cloak and Enchanter’s robes tighter, feeling the cold bite through. The Temple and Haven were both abuzz, important people coming from all over, and it humbled her to think the remnants of the Ostwick Circle thought her a good enough ambassador to send her to represent them. They weren’t really a Circle anymore, after most of the Templars left to Join the Lord Seeker, Lydia had been murdered, and the few remaining Templars attempted to annul the Circle, and herself and her group managed to escape. It had been tough, but truthfully it would have been more difficult if she, as well as several of her companions, didn’t have families with old money. While it was wrong, it was true, that even in times such as these, the nobility fared better.

She heard her brother Leo pull up beside her on his own black horse. Leo was a couple years older than her, and had begun his Templar training shortly before all the madness, much later than would normally be allowed, given he was now 28, and training normally began in childhood. Scandal had pushed her father, Bann Trevelyan, to force her brother into service, hoping it would tame his wild, wickedly charming youngest son, so she didn’t see him in her routine visits home. It did not, if his letters until they reunited, and even his behavior since, was any indication. That was almost a comfort in these times, her joking, smiling face always reassured her.

“Ready to face be simultaneously bored to death and argue yourself hoarse, sister mine?” Characteristic grin in place, Leo nudged his younger sister. “Race you to the stables!” And then he took off without warning, as she laughed and followed him, trying to match his horse’s pace. Neither one knew how much this would change everything.

Spiders chasing, Leo pulled her along, always keeping her out of their reach, kicking and swinging at them as he pulled her towards the exit, where a woman reached out to them. Then all was blank.


	2. Two Heralds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit long, but again I had to go over quite a bit. 
> 
> Sorry about the ridiculously slow updates, this last year has been insane. I am going to get back into the habit of writing.

Leliana looked dispassionately at the prisoners bound in the dungeon. Siblings, her information said, the younger children of Bann Trevelyan, Adele Evelyn Trevelyan, an enchanter from the Ostwick Circle, and Leo (Leonide, Leliana couldn’t blame him for shortening his name) Maxwell Trevelyan, a Templar, Defender corp. Their mother was Orlesian, Lady Esme Trevelyan, formerly of the Orlesian Valois family, a respected noble house, hence their Orlesian first names, their father Bann Maxwell Trevelyan was a moderate, respectable lord. Both sides of the family were deeply intertwined in the Chantry and Templar Order, at the very least for political reasons and the placement of troublesome extra children. It was always hard to tell how devout nobles actually were. Leliana was currently at a loss to explain why a mage and a templar both worked to destroy the Conclave, even though they were siblings, but she was sure Cassandra would get it out of them once they awoke.

She took in every detail of the prisoners before her. Both were filthy, but Leliana could see their patrician features under the grime. Adele had hair the color of antique gold, curls coming loose from the intricately styled braided and curled bun, her skin would likely be the color of fresh cream under all that dirt, and she had the curves many women would envy. Eye color was a mystery given her eyes were closed, but her high cheek bones, slender nose and petal pink full lips were still visible. Adele Trevelyan was quite the beauty, no scars and no blemishes except grime, probably due to her rather sheltered life in the Circle, and very young, Leliana would place her in her later teens or early twenties, 19 or 20 thereabouts. Her brother Leo had the same golden hair, the sides and back so short they were nearly shaved, the top was longer, wild and sticking up in various places. He was an enormous man, easily head and shoulders above many men, shoulders also impossibly broad, thick, rippling muscles were not obscured enough under his templar’s armor. Sharp jaw and cheekbones seemed carved out of stone, his own nose had been broken, it was slightly off center and a scar ran over it, his lips were thin but not unpleasantly so, another long scar followed the right side of his jaw, another through his left eyebrow. His skin was darker, a similar color to his hair, he had been out in the sun a lot in his life it seems, the beginnings of wrinkles around his eyes and one on his forehead. It you washed him and put him in fancy clothes, he would fit many young girl’s idea of a prince. Or a pirate from a bad romance novel. While Adele she would guess around 19, maybe early twenties, Leo was closer to thirty, maybe his late twenties, older and experienced but not ancient. Leliana didn’t need to guess his eye color because tawny eyes opened, looking around him, seeming to visually check if his sister was okay before noticing the glowing green mark on each of their hands, his right and her left. His coloring and strength reminded Leliana of the Lions of Orlais, so perhaps his name, which literally meant ‘lion’ in Orlesian, was apt.

At that moment, Cassandra saw fit to join them, startling Adele awake, panic flashing through her sapphire eyes, wide eyes flitted around her surroundings, her brother leaned against her as best as he was able given his equally bound state.

“Tell me why we should not kill you both now. The Conclave is destroyed, everyone is dead…except for you.” The venom in Cassandra’s voice was palpable.

“That’s horrible…all those people…” Adele breathed out, there was a quiver in her voice, and either she was an exceptional actress or she was genuinely upset.  
“And you think we are responsible?” Leo tilted his head while there was surprise and confusion in his eyes, little of it bled into the rest of his face. “Based on what evidence, exactly, or did we jump immediately into the scape goat phase?” There was a SMILE on the noble Templar’s face, wholly unconcerned with his fate, Leliana caught a flicker of worry as he glanced at his sister. Ah, so it was not himself he worried for, but his sister, whether either of them had anything to do with it and he was worried for that reason or he was worried because he thought she would get blamed, was unclear. What was clear, is that Leo knew how to play the game, the flicker of worry was gone before most could register it. 

“Explain this.” Cassandra spat, grabbing Leo’s arm roughly, gesturing to the mark.

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there, and neither does my sister. For all I know, YOU put it there, Seeker.” Leo challenged, a damned smile still on his lips, goading Cassandra further.

“Your lying!” Cassandra took the bait, lunging at the chained man until Leliana restrained her with reminders that they were needed. A small part of Cassandra was later impressed that the Marcher had shown no fear when she charged at him.

“I can’t believe it…all those people, dead.” Adele was still in shock, so things around her weren’t really registering. Some of her friends had been there, she had seen them amongst the rebel mages faction, they were all gone. Just her and her brother survived out of the literal hundreds, if not thousands who had swarmed the temple. She was happy she wasn’t alone, and that her brother was still trying to protect her, in his own way, by drawing the Seeker’s attention away from her. 

Leo had always been that way, their other brothers were both quite a bit older, Adele thinks Phillipe was probably close to 40 now, Lucien was not far behind, they were both married to noble ladies and had children. Leo’s twin sister, Celeste, was also married with children, and had never been too terribly interested in her younger sister. It had always been her and Leo, even though Leo was still close to a decade older, she was 19 and he was 28 now, she had always been his Princess. Despite their age difference, Leo always played with her, he had roamed hither and yon when she was small, hunting, occasionally mercenary work, womanizing…anything a bored younger son could do he did, but he never forgot his little sister. He always came home to her and brought her gifts and sweets, he frequently played knight and princess with her, her favorite game as a child. Until she was an early teen and her magic manifested. They were still close, and he was always there at the manor when she visited, he always sent her letters and gifts for his ‘princess’, until Leo had finally tried father’s patience for the last time. What he had done to finally pull him out of the running for heirship (Trevelyans were unusual in that Bann-ship was not passed strictly to the oldest, but the most capable, be that in combat, politics…Trevelyans wanted the very best) and have himself sent into the Templars fold…Adele wasn’t sure. He had skillfully dodged the question every time it was brought up.

“What happens now?” While Leo thought that the destruction and death of many was sad…he had more immediate concerns. Namely his sister, himself, and the fucking glowing mark on his hand, in that order. Leo was not the type to cry over a bunch of people he didn’t know dying (well, there were a few he probably knew to a small degree, maybe a few distant relations, but still not worth crying), if he was he would have died of dehydration, there would not be a drop of water left in him because they were in the midst of a bloody war. While not a cold man, Leo was a pragmatist under his often silly exterior. He didn’t become a Templar because of some noble reason like he wanted to protect people, he became one because it was either that, join a mercenary group on a permanent basis or be cut off, period, he would have had to make his way in life with a severely damaged reputation and no connections. Being a Templar promised an easier route than working his way through a mercenary company, and would probably afford him a better life. A stable one at the very least, and relatively safer if one was sent to a calm Circle. Also the possibility of serving in Ostwick, where Adele was, and where his name carried the most weight, although that would have needed many greased palms given the fact they were related. But money always won such things, and even if he wasn’t allowed to serve there, he would have been allowed to visit. Instead, he had become a Templar and then the world fell apart. Lucky him, at least the armor was nice.

“Do you remember what happened? How all this began?” Leliana asked.

“I remember a light, things chasing us, Leo tried to protect me…and then…a woman? She reached out to us, pulled us up and then…nothing.” Adele answered, her face confused and frustrated. Leo nodded, that was about all he could remember as well, try as he might, all he succeeded in getting was a headache.

Leliana and Cassandra seemed to confer for a moment, Cassandra sent her to the forward camp, promising to bring the prisoners. She unshackled each one.

“What did happen?” Adele questioned, as Cassandra tied her hands. 

“It…would be easier to show you.” Cassandra replied before doing the same to Leo.

“That does not sound reassuring.” Leo commented as she lead them outside. 

The sun was blinding at first, the air freezing, biting the skin, Adele shuddered, the cold air tore through her mangled enchanter’s robes. They had, prior to this all beginning, been lovely, honestly more of a gown than any form of practical enchanter’s garb, a lovely shade of lavender, with accents of spring green. She felt angry, scared eyes on them as they stood, eyes adjusting to the light, and then they saw a vivid, poison and jade green tear in the sky.

“We call it the Breach. A massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It is not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?” Skepticism dripped from Leo’s voice. 

“This one did, unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.” With that, the vivid green pulsed, sending white hot, blinding pain to Adele and Leo. Adele fell, Leo catching her slightly, grunting with the effort and the pain from the mark. “Each time it expands, the mark on your hand grows, and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

“You say this MAY be the key, to doing what?” Leo bit out.

“Closing the Breach, whether this is possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is however our only chance. And yours.”

“And you think we did this, to OURSELVES?” Leo again, uncharacteristically aggressive at the moment.

“Not intentionally, something clearly went wrong.” Leo scoffed with contempt when Cassandra responded.

“And if we aren’t responsible?” Adele wondered aloud.

“SOMEONE is, and you two are our only suspects. You wish to prove innocence? This is the only way.”

Adele sighed, closing her eyes, trying to dampen her fear, taking some comfort in her brother beside her, solid and warm. “I understand. I will do whatever it takes.”

“Not so fast, my dear princess, will doing this save us?” More important to Leo, will it save Adele? His little sister was his responsibility, she always had been. Even now, with all this war, he had travelled to her to keep her safe, try to keep her out of the fight. He had failed to keep her out of everything, but until this point he had been able to minimize the level of threat to her. If the Maker existed, perhaps he made him a Templar to better protect those closest to him. Adele, while she had some training when she was small, and had hunted, was unused to death and combat since she had been in the Circle. Even before that, she was a noble’s daughter…not expected to be aught else than a beautiful wife someday. She had been sheltered and coddled until she went to the Circle, and there was not exactly much rougher. She had been all her life a house cat, very important but very little to do, loved no matter what she did by their parents, and not allowed into the big scary world. There was a kindness, an innocence that his sister had, and he wanted to preserve that as long as possible. She had killed since leaving the Circle, but not much, she had largely focused on healing abilities and academia whilst in the Circle. Killing the few she had was…upsetting to her.

“I can promise a trial, nothing more.” Cassandra said.

“Splendid, simply splendid.” Sarcasm drenched Leo’s words, as Cassandra cut their ropes and the followed her out the gates.

The journey to the front was perilous, even after they found weapons. Cassandra was initially hesitant, but she was forced to concede she could not protect them both, and since they had been willingly following, she should trust them. Meeting up with the elven apostate Solas and Varric was interesting, it was heartening to know that their mark could close the rifts. Varric and Leo had taken to each other somewhat immediately, where as Solas seemed more distant and reserved, much like Adele had been the entire way. Currently Varric was guessing where they were from.

“I’m from Kirkwall…you are from…further east maybe? Ostwick, Tantervale?”

“You…just listening to us talk is a little strange.” Leo laughed, but didn’t confirm or deny.

“This is going to bother me!” Varric huffed.

“That is quite the ear you have, Master Tethras. We are indeed from Ostwick, we are Trevelyans.” Adele replied, ending the dwarves curiosity. She named her family with pride, while numerous, the Trevelyans were easily the most famous, wealthy and powerful of the Five, the five families with the most power and influence in that city, the Trevelyans were second only to the Teynir Maldwyn. They had relations throughout Thedas, notably in Orlais, but she could even name relatives in Tevinter, Rivain, Antiva and Ferelden. Ostwick was rich with trade, boasting a strong naval presence, fertile fields also enriching the double walled city, a city that had never been taken it was boasted. Of the Free Marcher cities, Ostwick had much more intact Tevinter architecture, even the Circle she had spent the past several years in, Faxhold, was an Ancient Tevinter lighthouse, it jutted out of the rocks and waves like a giant white dagger, it was accessible only through a very narrow bridge. Adele had spent years in the safest, most sedate and relaxed Circle in most of Thedas, her brothers were trained by Hussars (esteemed Ostwick military, comprised mostly of cavalry, Ostwick was known for their horses), her family had been much safer and fortunate than many over the past decade. Even though she had longed for adventure and travel as a girl, Adele couldn’t deny her home’s charms and her luck. 

The rest of the journey was much easier, the additional party members eased the battles with the demons immensely. When they finally reached the front, after arguing about whether to take the mountain path or not, they decided to split, Adele and most of the party going through the mountain path, Leo electing to charge with the soldiers.

Cullen looked up, seeing one of the prisoners approaching him with Cassandra after sealing the rift, the other seemingly preparing to go the other route. A blonde mage, was all Cullen got the impression of before he focused on the prisoner before him, who he immediately knew was a templar. It was in the way he moved, held his shield and sword, a confidence and a comfortableness in his own skin, with his equipment. Cullen, while stressed, felt a small sense of ease when he noted it.

“Lady Cassandra, you managed to seal the rift? Well done.” Cullen addressed Cassandra, even though his amber eyes bore into the tawny eyes of the prisoner. 

“Do not congratulate me, Commander, it is the prisoner’s doing. They can both seal them.” Cassandra stated, her gruff to the point manner was something Cullen understood and respected.

“Is it? I hope they are right about you both, a lot of people died to get you here.” His words sounded harsh, but Cullen was not a particularly gentle man, especially under stress. Not since before Kinloch anyway.

Leo laughed, “You aren’t the only one hoping that.”

“We will see soon enough, won’t we?” Cullen dismissed, before adding, “The way to the Temple should be clear, Leliana will meet you.”

“Then we shall move quickly, give us time Commander.” Cassandra replied.

“Maker watch over you all, for all our sakes.” Cullen said before moving to join his soldiers in the charge.

Leo’s blood started singing, adrenalin pouring through his system like a flood, his Trevelyan roots awoken by the promise of more battle. “Modest in temper, bold in deed”, the family motto, was almost a joke to anyone that had ever met a Trevelyan. And the people who hadn’t probably thought their crest held a draft horse, and that Trevelyans were only rich farmers. While it was not untrue that his family had originally made much of its prestige due to farming and horse breeding, they had helped found Ostwick, their blood was in every inch of its land. Their crest actually showed a war charger, coincidentally something their family excelled at breeding. Trevelyans were always superb warriors, never flinching to fight and die for their home. And, in the millenia since, that had remained true, even as their family diversified into sea trading and every other industry in Ostwick. They had a finger in every pie, and it was whispered that they held more actual power than Maldwyn. However, most Trevelyans had short tempers, and until the past few generations, little political tact. They were about as subtle as a claymore. Leo’s mother and grandmother were both Orlesian, which had tempered and honed their legendary temper, changing the claymore into a rapier, and introduced far more politics. Because of that influence, Leo felt at home here on the battle field and a ballroom. 

What followed was a quick and brutal battle before they managed to force their way in, and a lengthier one against the Pride demon. When Leo and Adele attempted to close the rift, they only succeeded in freezing it essentially before a pulse of the fade magic knocked them both right out. They fell like puppets with their strings cut. 

The Breach was calm, it had stopped growing thanks to their efforts. In the weeks since, both “Heralds” as they had been dubbed, had been almost nonstop busy since waking. Cullen was not sure what to think of both of them, and he was sure many others felt the same. They were polar opposites, even when one didn’t consider one was a mage and one a templar. 

Lady Herald, as Cullen called her, Adele, was calm and poised, gentle, diplomatic, she had helped Adan on numerous occasions, always filed her reports on time, and was in general, everything Cullen had thought a lady should be. She would have been the saint like, perfect symbol if she wasn’t a mage. She radiated calm benevolence, her energy felt like the ocean, normally calm, with a rhythm to its waves, but occasionally it had been stormy on the rare occasion she was angry. Lord Herald or Leo, was the exact opposite. While some would (Lady Leliana and Lady Josephine specifically) call him ‘wickedly charming’, Cullen thought his irreverent attitude annoying at times, even though he had to admit camaraderie was easier with Leo than it was with Adele. He was always amongst the people, a chameleon, laughing and drinking, flirting and fucking anyone, regardless of gender if they seemed interested. In other words, the typical younger lord’s son. He was a whirlwind of energy in person, chaos personified until one observed his military neatness. Cullen would have dismissed him as a useless lordling if he hadn’t seen him fight, hadn’t seen his intense early morning training sessions, and hadn’t seen the calculating intelligence in the other man’s eyes. 

Because of the startling difference between the two, the Inquisition had begun taking different tasks to different Heralds, which should mean chaos, but for some reason (probably Adele’s meticulous notes and timely paperwork), it didn’t. It was actually convenient at times to have two Heralds, because that meant there could always be one in Haven, conversely there could also be two missions done in the same amount of time. 

It also meant that Cullen didn’t have to interact with the Lady Herald if he didn’t want to. Not that he was avoiding her or anything, it definitely had not been him that ran the other way when she started to walk towards the soldier’s tents. It’s just…he was very, very busy. Cullen focused more on the task at hand, his eyes had been unconsciously following her as she walked towards the stables. 

“All those curves, Vic, she shouldn’t be skippin about in leathers.” A soldier commented to another outside his tent.

“Shut yer yap, Jack, I thank the Maker every day she does. Besides, she’s probably too young to know what she’s doin. I saw her bent over the other day, rummaging through some barrels, and Andraste’s knickers was that a sight. Her leathers looked painted over her ass and hips.” The other soldier gave a coarse chuckle, “It’s a bleedin miracle I didn’t try nothin. I’ve always been a sucker for a big ass and full hips.”

“And what about her front? That binding ain’t doing it’s job. I pray it bursts when I’m around.” The first soldier, evidently ‘Jack’, sighed, “Not like blokes like us will ever get so much as a peek.”

“Who knows? Plenty of rich ladies like a bit o’ rough, and boy would I like to volunteer. I’d praise her ‘Maker’ any time.”

Cullen looked up, ready to tell off those guards, when he saw the Lady Herald again, walking towards her brother and Lady Cassandra, who were training, and curse him he took a closer look at her body. Her hips, thighs and ass were indeed full, high and perky, her waist was probably small enough that both hands could fit around it. Her chest was not visible from behind, but Cullen agreed from memory, the binding was not nearly tight enough for any man’s sanity. The Lady Herald was a beautiful woman, her slim, graceful neck held up the face of an angel. Her blue eyes were like polished sapphires, her lips were full and a soft peachy pink, blonde ringlets pulled back into a braided bun. There was a freshness about her, her youthful innocence only adding to her beauty, and added a wicked perverseness into thinking what he just thought about her body. She was much too young for him, he was 35, she had just turned 20. A twinge of shame for his sinfulness didn’t dampen the spark of interest. If anything, it made the thought more arousing. Cullen thought that Adele probably had zero idea what she did to men, she didn’t even seem aware she was beautiful. Maker’s breath, what was with him and blonde mages? Leliana and Cassandra were beautiful women , albeit absolutely terrifying in different ways, Cassandra would growl and run you through if you so much as looked at her in that way, Leliana would smile and then you would disappear to some torture chamber, no doubt. Or she would merely file that away and use it against you later. Josephine was also beautiful, and almost as innocent as the Herald, but Cullen unfortunately found everything she was interested in as mind numbingly dull, therefore he seldom attempted to make small talk. It was just like him though, to be surrounded by beautiful women and only be interested in the one that was off limits, because of course.

He didn’t even usually go for blondes in general, in fact for a long time after Nym, Cullen had visited exclusively brunets and redheads. Cullen was attributing this interest to the fact there was not a whorehouse for many leagues, not even a low end one, although he preferred to visit more…respectable ones. He was still a man, and the Maker had not yet seen fit to take his libido from him, so even though Cullen would have preferred Nym to be both his first and last, that was simply not the case. Cullen had gotten in the habit of carefully visiting respectable establishments when the urge could not be ignored any longer, much like getting a rotten tooth pulled. 

To be fair, the only things Nym and Lady Adele had in common were being female blonde mages. Nym, even though she was young when they started, was in no way innocent, nor was she as gentle and kind. Her tongue was as sharp as her wit, and she was sometimes unintentionally cruel, and that had not changed over the years, Leliana said. Power had, if anything, made her colder and sharper to all save Alistair and her child, Aoine. Lady Adele was the exact opposite, in public her soft voice and regal, benevolent manner was calming, and while intelligent she never assumed she knew everything, she always conferred with her circle to reach the best decision. In private, well amongst the inner circle, Adele was sweet and disarming, sometimes showing her youth and lack of experience.

He shook his head clear, before getting up, startling the two gossiping soldiers, and winced when they saw his thunderous expression. 

“If I EVER hear you speak about the Lady Herald in such a way again, never mind ACT on any of those thoughts, you better pray that the Maker smites you before I get ahold of you. No lady should be spoken of or treated in such a way.”

“Especially when she has an older brother within ear shot.” The gaurds and Cullen jumped, none of them had noticed Leo approach. How they had missed him was a mystery. He was head and shoulders above Cullen, even though Cullen himself was a tall 6’2”, Leo Trevelyan was probably closer to 6’5” or 6’6”, and broader, Cullen’s lyrium withdrawal had slimmed him down a bit. Leo’s face held a smile, but it was not a friendly smile, and his eyes were downright murderous. “My sister may not have heard you, but I certainly did. I won’t just dismiss you or publicly flog you if you in any way insult my sister, I will eviscerate you and then bed your mothers or sisters. Although, if any of them look like you two do, I doubt I could even get it up.”

All of this was occurring around ten paces from the lady in question, who appeared to be discussing something with Cassandra, so absorbed in her conversation she had no idea what was going on. The two guards turned tail, mumbling apologies.

Leo sighed, “It’s too bad that this will likely not quell all of the…interest from the more unsavory. “

Cullen agreed, the Lord Herald had said what he had been thinking. Sure, word would get out that such talk was discouraged, but men were men, and the lady in question was far too pretty for any ones good. 

Hours later, Cullen gave in to his frustration, taking up Flissa on her not so subtle invitation. A certain blonde crept into his thoughts a few times, although he desperately tried to focus on the woman beneath him, pushing forbidden thoughts away.


End file.
